


It Feels Better Biting Down

by FiliTheLionKing (IAmYourWatson)



Series: A Witch and His Vampire [4]
Category: Being Human (UK), The Almighty Johnsons
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dark, Anders is a witch, Because of reasons that's why, Blood, Blood Drinking, Chocolate, Creepy Fluff, Dark Magic, Fluff, Instead of Birthday, It's Mitchell's Death Day, It's all Anders' fault anyways, M/M, Vampires, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 16:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1394794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmYourWatson/pseuds/FiliTheLionKing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been almost a year since they were bonded and married before the eyes of his fellow witches, and Anders is in the kitchen, acting surprisingly domestic. Today is a special day for Mitchell, and even though the vampire doesn't really regard it as such, the witch is determined to make it a holiday for the two of them. Because, over one hundred years ago, Mitchell died and became a vampire, and that's something worth celebrating in Anders' gold-tinged eyes. So a cake is baked, blood is fetched, and a warm, dark, candlelit romantic night is set up. </p><p>That's it. It's all tooth-rottingly sweet, devilishly-dark, twisted and evil fluff. Enjoy the evil love!</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Feels Better Biting Down

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ceallaig](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceallaig/gifts).



> This is for a prompt from ceallaig1 on tumblr: Britchell — prompt ‘chocolate’, fluffy not smut (make it a little tough for you) :) 
> 
> Hopefully, I did this justice! As always, heed the warnings, and please leave a comment or critique below! It always make me happy to hear from you all, even if I'm a bit slow to answer (like, VERY slow, I'm like frozen molasses on a winter's day in Antarctica, I'm so sorry!) Love from the Lioness!

Blood and chocolate. They went together like flowers and sunlight, or milk and cookies, or even puppies and cuteness. They were just two things that were  _meant_  to go together; at least, that’s what Anders thought as he stood over a pot of melted chocolate. He was waving his hand around in lazy circles, the chocolate mixing itself over a blue fire. In the oven was a chocolate cake, a devil’s food cake to be exact (something of an in-joke between the two of them, given what they are). Their living room was covered in dark red candles, the curtains were drawn against the dark moonlight, and a black fire was crackling merrily away in their fireplace. The perfect romantic evening, or so he hoped. It was Mitchell’s death day, and he wanted to make it perfect for his dark beloved. 

The chocolate was soon sufficiently melted, and he took the cake out of the oven (and by taking out that meant he waved a hand at it and it took itself out; he wasn’t in the mood to be burned right now, and he was a bit clumsy when it came to ovens anyway). Soon enough there was a beautifully decorated devil’s food cake on the kitchen table, covered in dark chocolate ganache and garnished with a strawberry. Looking between the cake and the magazine article he’d pinned to a cupboard with a knife, Anders decided that the finished thing was similar enough to the magazine’s picture to be satisfactory. Rubbing his hands together, he grinned at a job well done, and set about getting out of his flour-stained clothes. 

He swiftly changed into all black clothes, his shirt fitting nice and snugly (just like Mitchell liked it) while his pants were slim and flattering to his shorter frame. He forewent shoes, preferring to be barefoot in his own home; it brought him closer to the earth, even though he was a few floors up from it. Witches drew their powers from the earth mostly, even though they also gained some of their powers from darkness or the moonlight. Most witches he knew went barefoot when they could, removing as many barriers as possible between them and their source of power. Mitchell found it awfully endearing, and a bit disarming, seeing his powerful and deadly mate walking around shoeless. It just seemed vulnerable to him, someone wearing no shoes, and it was in some weird way a show of trust to the vampire. Without shoes, you could easily cut yourself while running away, slowing you down. It meant that Anders didn’t anticipate running away from his lover, and this always put Mitchell at ease. And while this wasn’t the main reason he rarely wore shoes at home, Anders added this little reason to his list of things that were far too adorable about his vampire lover. 

Whoever said the children of evil couldn’t be closet romantics?

Finally dressed, the witch headed back out of their bedroom, noting the time on the clock. Mitchell would be home in ten minutes. The witch smiled; his timing was perfect. He walked back into the kitchen and retrieved a tall decanter of fine wine; it was a gift from Mikkel a few moons ago, a vintage made by witches that was tinged with dark power from the grapes having been sown and picked at midnight on a moonless night. To witches, it was revitalizing, but to mortals (and vampires), it was highly intoxicating, lowering inhibitions and throwing down defenses. Knowing that Mitchell didn’t like to not be in control, Anders only poured himself a glass. For the vampire, he fetched another decanter, this one made for brandy, that was filled with crimson-red blood. It was fresh blood that Anders had harvested himself for his lover, having killed and drained a victim himself to make sure the blood was high-quality and free of anything harmful. His hands laden with the glasses, he walked into the living room, the cake and some plates and cutlery floating along behind him. 

The fire roared a little louder in greeting, burning darker for a few moments as Anders’ ambient power stoked it, making sure the room was warm but not oppressive. The cake and everything else settled itself nicely on their coffee table just as a rustling of keys was heard at the door. Anders’ eyes glowed golden as he looked through the door, ensuring that it was just his lover returning home from work. The vampire had insisted on working today, covering an afternoon shift for a coworker whose husband Anders had killed as a sacrifice a long time ago, long before Mitchell came to New Zealand. Not that the vampire knew this, of course, and the nurse was remarried and happy now. The man had been a serial adulterer anyway, and the spirits had feasted happily on his soul that night. A bright smile lit up the witch’s face as the vampire stepped through, the taller man pausing and blinking adorably as he took in the scene before him.

"Happy death day, my love." Anders grinned, his voice velvety-smooth as it always was when he spoke to his lover. He cocked his head to the side, and the door swung shut and locked itself, the spells for protection and silence sliding up once again to protect them from the outside world, a world that would never really understand them. Not that they cared, but interruptions were awfully inconvenient when you were fucking your lover on a full moon while chanting to the gods for blessings of good fortune. Mitchell put down his messenger bag and shrugged out of his coat, his scrubs a jarring discord from the dark color scheme of the rest of the flat. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he accepted his cup of blood; his expression grew into one of boyish glee as he took in the cake on the coffee table.

"Cake?" He smirked, wrapping an arm around his lover and resting his nose in the smaller man’s hair, breathing in that strange mix of blood, earth, burning wood, and dark power that always hung around Anders. 

"Yeah. What, you don’t like it? I thought cakes were a big part of death day celebrations?" Anders nudged his lover, smirking right back at him as he sipped his wine.

"Aye, but it’s usually more of a  _birthday_  thing, love.”

"And since when were we ever conventional? Besides, your death brought you to me, which is far more important than your rather dismal human life and its events could ever be. As far as your humanity is concerned, I’m only grateful that you were born a human; your death, however, is what brought you to me, and that’s what we’re going to celebrate so long as I have a say in how things are run here, which will be forever. So get used to it." 

"So bossy!" Mitchell laughed, his eyes flashing black as the blood hit his heart, bringing heat back to his flesh. He nuzzled Anders’ neck, grinning and nipping at his skin. "All right, all right. Death day it is, then, for me. But since you never died, it’s still good ol’-fashioned birthdays for you, m’love. So get used to it." 

Anders rolled his eyes and swatted at Mitchell’s arse, nudging him towards the bedroom. “Go shower and get changed, you egg; the cake’s getting cold, and while I happen to like cold things, cold cake is a blasphemy if I ever saw one. Not that I’m against blasphemies, mind you, but cake is something you just don’t mess with.”

"You’re too right there, love." Mitchell grinned, laughing merrily as he drained the last of his cup, handing the crystal glass back to his lover. "I’ll be back in a little bit, darling. Don’t start the fun without me." He winked over his shoulder as he headed for the bedroom and its en-suite bathroom. He shucked off his shirts, revealing his toned back just to tease the witch. The room growing darker for a moment and the crackle of flames told Mitchell that his little display had worked just as intended, and he swayed his hips as he moved out of sight. 

The witch licked his lips as he watched his lover, knowing that he could very well just use his powers to look through the walls and watch the vampire bathe; this time, though, he refrained. He figured that waiting would be worth it, just building up the anticipation until he had his lover in his bed. Now was the time for romance, and love, and little reminders that they were together and safe. Their bond shone as brightly as ever, their auras entwined for any and all to see, if only they knew how to look. Absently, he ran his fingers over his bonding mark, the one Mitchell had carved into his skin many moons ago as a symbol of their love and devotion. A softer smile appeared on his lips, and he sat down on their couch, staring at the chocolate cake as he heard the shower switch off.

Reaching out, he slid his finger through some errant ganache on the plate, bringing it back to his mouth. The sweet and strong taste of the dark chocolate hit his tongue, and he moaned softly from the sugary delight of it all. He thought of black, inky curls and eyes as dark as the chocolate before him, and the witch smiled. His smiles were much more common these days, after meeting his lover and mate, but ones like this, easy and calm and almost  _human_  were still awfully rare. It was only private thoughts of the vampire that gave him this sort of satisfaction.

Blue eyes opened to meet brown ones as Mitchell sat down next to him, dressed simply in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt. He smelled clean and inviting, and the witch didn’t hesitate to lean in and kiss his lover’s neck. The vampire purred and wrapped his arm around Anders’ shoulder, holding him close. There was nothing sexual in the air, not right now; it was just warmth and closeness, something the two were still somewhat unused to, even after being married for almost a year. The room was quiet as they simply soaked in each others’ presence, Anders silently refiling Mitchell’s cup with more of that pristine blood he’d acquired. Said vampire thanked him with a small kiss, sipping at the scarlet liquid as they simply breathed together. 

"…There’s blood in the cake." 

Mitchell’s eyes went black. Anders grinned, taking their cups and setting them down. He dipped a finger in Mitchell’s cup, bringing it up to color his lips red with the vital liquid. Pitch black eyes met bright gold ones as a smile curled the witch’s lips. Their kiss was brutal yet gentle, a wave of passion and desire that was tempered by soft adoration and subtle movements. Only two creatures so vastly different could achieve such a dichotomy, such a precarious balance, but it worked for them. Nothing but panting breaths was heard for the next few minutes, neither party needing to breath much between kisses. Even when the frenzy ended, only their breathing was heard for the rest of the night, with the occasional soft clink of silverware hitting china as they fed each other pieces of the cake, some of it soaked in blood, others dipped in wine, just for the hell of it. No sex was had until much later, and even then it was soft, slow lovemaking of the kind that they rarely engaged it. It was love in its purest form, something these two damned beings had managed to find despite the odds. 

Theirs was not a love story; it was a horror story, through and through, full of murder and death, killing and blood, gore and darkness, magic and rituals. And that’s how they liked it. They were evil, and proud of it. 

Sometimes, as Anders learned that night, you simply needed to kiss someone’s neck to get your pleasure. You didn’t always have to sink your teeth in, something that Mitchell had learned a long time ago. The taste of chocolate and blood and wine was heavy on their tongues as they kiss, sharing love and softness before the warmth of the black fire. Yes, they agreed, sometimes kissing was preferable. 

But, more often than not, it feels better biting down. 

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from the song "Biting Down" by Lorde.


End file.
